T‑1 d: One More Night, One More Try

Twelve months ago, I sat down to write this very kind of post. Slightly nervous. A little tired. But also excited, grounded, and determined.

It’s the night before SWISSMAN.

„Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.
Samuel Becket

And we’re here again. Same race. Same nerves. But a different version of me.

This year wasn’t just about physical preparation – it was about closure. After last year’s heartbreak, I promised myself I’d come back not with vengeance, but with clarity. Not to prove something, but to finish something. And maybe – just maybe – to redeem a dream I couldn’t quite let go.

I would come back. Not because it made sense. But because it still mattered.

Now here I am.
T‑1 d. SWISSMAN 2025.
Same mountain. Different legs.

I’m standing on the edge with more experience, deeper resilience, and – somehow – peak fitness by my own standards. The numbers say I’m strong. Maybe stronger than I’ve ever been. But the doubts haven’t vanished.

In fact, they’ve just gotten more articulate.

“You trained so much… and this is the goal?”

My wife looked at me the other day as we walked through the race plan – swim schedule, transition logistics, ride checkpoint times, cut-off limits, all the glorious nerdery.

And then she paused. Thoughtful.
“…But you trained so much – and yet you’re only aiming to finish? You’re not even trying to finish fast?”

She’s not wrong.
Not by triathlon standards.
Not by Type-A-athlete logic.

But this race isn’t about speed for me . It never was.

SWISSMAN is not a performance for time.
It’s a pilgrimage through limits.
You don’t conquer it – you earn it, one cautious calorie and crampy climb at a time.

My training – while modest by textbook triathlon metrics – is sculpted around real life. Around family adventures, business trips, wet commutes, and fitting the long sessions in when they fit.

So yes. I’m trained to finish.
Not fast.
But fully.

And that’s exactly the point.

The Strategy: Pace Like You Respect the Mountain

There is no glory in going out too hard – and being heavily undertrained – and burning out by Grimsel – as I did 2016. There is no glory in destroying your race due to a malfunctioning gut in Burglauenen. This isn’t a race for ego. It’s a chess game with your own physiology – played on 5,500 meters of elevation.

The plan is simple. Not easy. But simple:

Swim calm. Trust the stroke, don’t fight the lake. It’s early. The day is long.
Bike smart. Spin the climbs. Keep the heart rate low. Let others pass. (I am sooo bad at this)
Fuel always. Even when it’s boring. Especially then.
Run relentless. When legs fail, lean on will. When will fades, lean on stubbornness.

I know the sections where it’ll hurt. I’ve trained for them – both physically and mentally.
There’s a playlist in my head, a rhythm I trust, and a calm refusal to panic when things go sideways. Because they will.

That’s part of the rite.

The Headspace: Between Doubt and Drive

I’d love to say I feel totally ready. That I’m brimming with confidence.
But the truth? I’m ready enough. And that has to be enough.

There’s always going to be a part of me whispering “What if this goes wrong?”
But there’s another voice too. Quieter, but steadier. The one that’s carried me through long climbs, cold rides, painful preperation races.

It says: You’ve done the work. You belong here. Just keep moving forward.

That’s the voice I’ll listen to tomorrow.

This Isn’t a Solo Project

Behind every endurance athlete is a village of very patient people.

To my wife: You’ve endured more than just race talk and training blocks. You’ve handled the invisible load – logistics, emotional resets, muddy shoes in the hallway – with grace I don’t deserve. Your question about finishing fast? Fair. And funny. And grounding. Thank you for always reminding me what matters.

To my kids: I know I’ve missed some mornings, some playtime, some presence. But I hope you see that chasing something hard, even when it hurts, is worth it. I hope one day you’ll find your own crazy mountain and go after it.

To my friends and colleagues: Thank you for tolerating the spreadsheets, the swim updates, and the occasional mid-meeting energy gel.

This isn’t a solo effort. It’s a family-backed expedition with one slightly obsessed nerd out front and a silent army behind.

Tomorrow, We Begin

There won’t be a drone shot – at least not my own one.
There won’t be crowds. Just a slow march from the lake to the sky.

And somewhere along the way – on the asphalt, in the silence, through the pain – I’ll find what I came for.

Let’s finish what we started.

Challenge Accepted!